


The Diamond Necklace Affair

by stunningepiphanies



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4866209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunningepiphanies/pseuds/stunningepiphanies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1964: Illya dislikes American holidays, but loves Gaby. But dislikes Napoleon Solo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Diamond Necklace Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fic! I got a prompt for Illya to create a very sweet and thoughtful Valentines present only for Napoleon to replace it with a ball gag. It's slightly different from the version I posted for tumblr, mostly edits to prose.

Truth be told, Illya found the whole concept of Valentines Day distasteful. It was just so quintessentially western, overtaking a religious holiday by telling everyone the only way to prove your love to someone was by buying them meaningless tokens. No point to it, no memorializing anyone or anything, just….buying someone's love.

Solo told him he had a hammer and sickle lodged up his ass. Illya asked him if he'd like to find out what that felt like, exactly.

But all the political, moral, and practical objections in the world weren't going to help him as the 14th fast approached, because Gaby had gotten it in her head that it was a perfectly reasonable holiday. He was convinced it was a product of being in Manhattan since the New Year, all this agressive American excess starting to get to her. She'd never been an irrational or needy kind of woman, not like those socialites Solo was so fond of. She was reasonable. Low maintenance and endlessly practical. And fond of frilly boxes of chocolate and lace hearts, apparently. 

Gaby hadn't said a word to him about it, but he noticed those long little glances when they passed by department store windows. She would linger by flower stands too, with a strange wistful look he'd only seen on her once, at the ballet in Paris. Maybe it was a calculated effort to let him know without having to say anything, maybe it was real. Illya wasn't sure, but he knew there'd be hell to pay if he didn't do something.

There was no way he was going to play by American rules for this, but Illya didn't exactly have the nessescary skills to just _make_ her something. He took things apart with his hands, putting things back together just never seemed to work with him. Fortunately, there was long term undercover KGB operative working out of New Jersey who owed him a very large and very expensive favor. He passed the request along to the man- a nervous, trembling, and half bald thing, more chihuahua than human being- with explicit instructions to let no one else know what was going on. A little vague looming, a little explicit threatening, it seemed to work out fairly well. 

Somehow, Illya suspected Oleg would be less than pleased to find he had comissioned otherwise insanely expensive jewelry for a British spy for an incredibly American holiday. Thank god the threat of extreme bodily harm kept all plans out of KGB ears and eyes. Sometimes being unstable and famously terrifying came in handy. 

\---

Illya received the gift early on the day of reckoning, a small brown package left at the door of their penthouse. He could barely wait to get it into his bedroom to check it out. It was perfect, just as he'd planned out. A necklace of black pearls- real ones, honestly- with a center piece of one large pearl framed in tiny diamond chips. Pearl earrings likewise framed in diamonds. He'd made sure they matched her ring down to the last detail, so she could wear them in any kind of mix and still have a cohesive look. That was the most important part- she had to look ravishing no matter what. 

They were all bugged as well, but that was a given. 

"Am I seeing things, or is the Red Peril actually stooping to American lows and celebrating today?" Illya slammed the jewelry box closed, whipping his head up to see Solo lounging in the doorway to his room. "Is this for our mechanic? Or do you have a sweet little thing on the side you've been hiding?"

Illya, to his credit, only reluctantly rose to the bait. "At least this means more than a paper heart," he snorts, "or a bouquet that will die tomorrow." That was another thing he hated- other Valentines tokens were so short lived. Maybe it had to do with the short American attention span? "What is the phrase? 'Diamonds are forever'?"

Solo just chuckled. "If you keep them locked up well enough, maybe." Illya quickly made a note to invest in a nice, hidden wall safe for Gaby as well. "Can I see it?"

The American held out his hand, but the sincere expression on his face softened Illya enough that he passed the box to him. He flipped the box open, and Illya couldn't help a little thrill of pride at the look on his partner's face. "Impressive," Solo mused, "excellent work. The settings on the earrings….I don't even want to know what you paid for this." That was a lie, naturally. Illya foresaw months of needling to get the truth out of him. "The trackers are a little obvious, I would have gone with something a little more subtle."

"She likes them. You see she still wears that ring." The box was out of Solo's hands before he could add any more criticism, but he was pretty pleased with the grating he got in while he could. You could see it in his eyes, Illya thought. Like a snake. Or maybe a very slick weasel. "Besides, Cowboy, you don't know the meaning of subtle. "

Solo heaved a dramatic sigh, pushing himself off the doorjamb. "You know best, I guess. Good luck, Comrade," he offered, giving the larger man a rather solid slap on the back. "Really, you didn't do too bad for your first shot at this."

"Oh, good. I was worried you would not approve. I feel better now."

If there were any more sarcasm in the room someone might actually drown in it.

\---

"Illya, you really didn't have to do this for me."

"I know, but you-"

"Now let me see it."

Gaby held out both hands in front of her, barely bothering to hide her excitement. She was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, Illya was worried if he made her wait any longer she might rocket through the ceiling. With a chuckle, he placed the wooden jewelry box in her hands and said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that this would go well.

It did, for a moment at least. The mechanic's smile was brighter than he'd ever seen, but slowly, so slowly, it faded as she stared into the box. "Illya," she said, and for some reason the coolness of her voice absolutely terrified him, "I will give you thirty seconds to explain this before I take you out." 

Well. At least she gave him some time before he met his maker. So generous, his little chop shop girl.

Slowly, Illya leaned over Gaby's head to look at the necklace set in her hands, desperately trying to shove down the heartbreak threatening to bubble up in his throat. But to his surprise, there was no beautiful black pearl set with an artist's eye. Instead, nestled in the red satin was a small red rubber ball attached to a fine black leather strap and buckle.

Oh.

Illya was no degenerate like Solo, but he'd been undercover at enough suspect parties to know a ball gag when he saw one. He wasn't sure how Gaby knew, but that was a mystery he would think at length over in the shower another day. Calmly, the Russian took the box from Gaby, snapping it shut with a little click. "Apologies." He slipped the box into his blazer and brushed past her, making a beeline for the front door.

"And where do you thing you're going," she called after him. "What happened?" 

Illya didnt even turn to answer her. He could already feel his fingers twitching at his side."I think there is an American I need to kill."

There was a moment of silence behind him while Gaby puzzled that out, and then, blessedly: "Ah. Well, please clean up after yourself. You know how badly blood stains your shirts."

**Author's Note:**

> Go google "the Diamond Necklace Affair" friends.


End file.
